


Sweet Summer Music

by HarmonyLover



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Berkshires AU, Boston Symphony Orchestra, Cellist Sarah, Dancer Mush, F/F, Jack and Sarah and Kath are all disaster bisexuals, Katherine is the beautiful arts and music critic of course, M/M, Neurosurgeon Spot, Painter Jack, Prosthetist Race, Sculptor and Potter Crutchie, Tanglewood, We'll see who else decides to show up in this piece of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-06-30 10:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: Sarah Jacobs left her hometown of New York to pursue the career of her dreams: becoming a professional cellist. After graduating from the New England Conservatory, she became the second chair cellist for the Boston Symphony Orchestra.In Sarah’s third year with the BSO, the symphony once again goes to its summer home at Tanglewood in Lenox, MA, where Sarah’s brother David and his husband Jack run the hottest new art gallery in the Berkshires. When a beautiful arts and music critic fromThe New York Timesshows up for the BSO’s opening concert, Sarah finds herself hoping for things she thought she’d given up on years before. Can she and Katherine find happiness together?





	1. Home for the Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pennysparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparrow/gifts), [PenzyRome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenzyRome/gifts), [WritingToKeepMySanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/gifts).



> Hello all! I came up with this idea a little while ago, and loved it so much that I had to start it. This is un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine - my betas have quite enough to do with my monstrous chapters of "We'll Be There to Defend One Another"! I'm hoping that this story will have shorter chapters, and just be some (mostly) light and fluffy sweetness for you all. 
> 
> Pennysparrow has loaned me her amazing genius prosthetist Race from her [Flower Shop AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/986985) \- if you haven't read it, go read! It is the sweetest, most adorable AU and I love every single bit of it. This story is also for [PenzyRome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenzyRome/pseuds/PenzyRome) and [WritingToKeepMySanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/pseuds/WritingToKeepMySanity). All three of you are such amazing writers and have been lovely, encouraging new fandom friends. <3 <3 <3

**Chapter One**

 

Sarah crept up the back stairs that led to Davey and Jack’s apartment in Lenox, MA. She had deliberately not told them the exact day she was coming, hoping to surprise them.

And, well, she had only surprised them in the midst of anything amorous _one time_. That wasn’t an experience she ever needed to repeat, but it was the beginning of the Berkshires summer season. If she knew her brother and Jack at all, Davey would be applying his considerable brainpower to inventory and budgets and event organizing down in the gallery, and Jack would be painting at the front of their apartment, trying to finish his new pieces.

Sarah put her key in the lock and turned the knob slowly, slipping off her ballet flats and tiptoeing through the kitchen and the hall in bare feet. When she reached the doorway to the living room, she found that her suspicions were correct: Jack was working intently on a painting, soft music playing in the background, his body and his canvas bathed in light from the large front window. Sarah leaned against the doorjamb and waited until he put his brush down before speaking.

“Hey, Cowboy,” she greeted him softly, smiling.

Jack whirled around, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Sunshine!” he exclaimed. He took two strides and picked her up off her feet in a bear hug, spinning her in circles while she laughed. “Why didn’t you tell us you were comin’?”

“Well, I _did_ tell you I was coming this week,” she teased, her eyes sparkling as Jack set her down. “But it’s more fun when you don’t know exactly what day.”

Jack hugged her again. “It’s so good to see you, Sunshine,” he said quietly, kissing her forehead. “And looking gorgeous as ever, too,” he added, smiling down at her with just a bit of a smirk.

Sarah laughed again. “Not a chance, Cowboy,” she answered. “We’ve been there, done that, and Davey would have my head. Although it’s nice to hear,” she added, and she went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Jack frowned a little. “You can’t tell me there’s no one in Boston fallin’ at your feet,” he said. “Sarah Jacobs, second chair cellist for the BSO? You should have a flock of admirers, Sunshine.”

Sarah gave a dismissive shrug. “I haven’t really tried. I’ve been on a few one-time dates, but that’s all. You know how busy my life is between practicing and performing, Jack.”

“Yeah, but you can’t work all the time, Sarah,” Jack chided her. “Work isn’t all there is to life.”

Sarah raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Says the man who would paint twenty-four seven if he could.”

Jack shook his head. “Not so much anymore,” he said with a smile. “Paintin’ comes easier if I do other things, be with Davey, take walks, just - let my brain work in the background, almost. Then I come back to my canvas and everything is brighter and clearer.”

“Wow,” Sarah said, surprised. “Mature artist Jack Kelly. I can’t say I’ve reached that particular state of Zen yet,” she said playfully. “But I’m _fine_ , Jack. I love my work. Music is more than enough happiness for me.”

Jack gave her a Look that clearly said they weren’t done talking about this, but he let it go and gave her a rueful grin. “I got paint all over your clothes with those hugs.”

Sarah flapped a hand. “All washable or disposable,” she smiled. “Do you think I haven’t learned by now?”

“I s’pose you have,” Jack smiled back. “C’mon. I’m going to take you down to David, or he’ll have _my_ head.”

“How frantic is he, on a scale of one to ten?” Sarah asked, as Jack wiped his hands on a rag and they started down the front stairs.

“About a nine,” Jack said, grinning again. “He’s tryin’ to get some new paintings hung, and Charlie’s new sculptures and pottery placed, which we don’t have yet -”

“Oh, it will be so nice to see Charlie!” Sarah said delightedly.

“ - and we’re doin’ multiple events this summer, including another fundraiser for Race,” Jack continued.

“Race and Spot! My boys!” Sarah exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. “It’s going to be a good summer.”

Jack laughed at her as they emerged onto the sidewalk, Sarah walking carefully on the balls of her feet.

“David,” Jack called as they went in the front door of the gallery. “Look who snuck up on me upstairs.”

David’s head popped up from where he was bent over the counter, studying what looked to Sarah like an inventory list. He was also surrounded by posters that were emblazoned with the gallery’s name, Manhattan to Santa Fe, and that were, Sarah presumed, advertising all of the gallery’s special events for the summer.

“Saz!” he said, his face breaking into a smile. He hurried around the counter and pulled Sarah into a tight hug. “How are you, sis? I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“That was really the entire point, brother dear,” Sarah said, hugging him back. “Elder sister privileges.”

“Of course it was,” David said. “And it’s _two minutes_ , Sarah!” he said indignantly, rolling his eyes, but his smile stayed, and Sarah was satisfied.

“How long do you have before the vultures descend?” Sarah asked.

“You know that as well as I do,” David said. “About two weeks, just before your first concert. Isn’t it _Tommy_ , this year?”

“ _Tommy_ , as in the rock opera? As in The Who?” Jack asked.

“The same,” Sarah affirmed. “It’s just Roger Daltrey performing, not a full cast. It’s going to be really fun to do with the orchestra, though. And then on the 24th we’re playing with Audra McDonald.”

David clasped his hands over his heart. “We already have tickets to that. I never miss her if I can help it, if she’s in the area.”

“I’d be jealous of your adoration, if I didn’t share it,” Jack teased, putting an arm around David’s shoulders and kissing his temple. “That woman has the voice of an angel.”

“She really does,” Sarah agreed. “And then the orchestra’s official opening night is July 6th,” she continued. “That’s when we do the prelude concert of Brahms, with a smaller group - I’m playing in that - and then the big concert later in the evening, of Mozart and Tchaikovsky. Lang Lang is playing with us for that, which should also be amazing,” she finished.

“I know you have a whole bunch of programs almost in a row, after that,” David said. “Race’s fundraiser is July 17th; will you be able to come?”

Sarah reviewed the summer schedule in her head. “I should be able to,” she said, relieved. “That’s the Tanglewood Music Center’s vocal recital, so we won’t be playing.”

“Oh, thank God,” David said. “They’d never forgive me if you couldn’t.”

“ _I’d_ never forgive you if I couldn’t, never mind them,” Sarah razzed him, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Miss an opportunity to wreak havoc with my other two Musketeers? Never!”

“ _Umbeshrien_ ,” David murmured irrepressibly.

“I thought _we_ were your other two Musketeers,” Jack said, giving Sarah a mock pout.

Sarah wrapped one arm around his waist and her other arm around David’s, pulling them both close. “No,” she said with a bright smile. “You two are my family. My home.”  


 

**Notes**

_Umbeshrien_ \- God forbid! It shouldn't happen!

Also, I am using the actual [Tanglewood summer schedule](http://bso.http.internapcdn.net/bso/images/uploads/brochures/TWD18_Brochure.pdf) for this year as a reference in this fic. :)


	2. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone - oh, my goodness, I feel like this has been a long time coming. The semester really does suck everything else away, including any writing time. I do hope you enjoy this, though, and I have to thank my wonderful friend WickedforGood13 for cheering me on and finding my mistakes in this chapter. Also, my apologies in advance for the awkward look of Sarah and Davey's texting - my HTML skills are just not up to fixing that.

**Chapter Two**

 

Sarah woke up early the next morning, rolling over in bed to the beautiful sight of the sunshine coming in the window and the Berkshires beckoning in the distance. The birds were singing and it was still cool; it was going to be a gorgeous day.

Sarah made herself a mug of coffee in her little kitchen, then padded out to the small patio outside her apartment. Really an old carriage house, the apartment faced the much larger home it was attached to, as well as a wide expanse of lawn, and Sarah liked to play on the patio in the mornings, drinking her coffee and taking in the view.

After setting her coffee down, she retrieved her cello, and carefully tuned the strings and rosined the bow before sitting down to play. Thinking for a moment, she smiled to herself before beginning Morricone’s “Gabriel’s Oboe” - along with the title instrument, it had a beautiful cello part that seemed perfect for this particular morning.

As Sarah was nearing the end, she saw her landlady, Ms. Larkin, come gliding over the grass in a green silk dressing gown, her still-bright curls cascading over her shoulders and her own coffee in hand. She paused at the edge of the patio while Sarah finished the piece, closing her eyes and soaking in the music with a soft smile on her face.

As the last note faded into the air, she opened her eyes and gave Sara a warm smile. “You play so beautifully, my dear. This is why I need you to keep coming back; whatever would I do without your morning serenades?”

Sara smiled back at her. “Thank you, Medda. You know I’m happy to come back and stay as long as you want me as a tenant; I was so glad when David and Jack introduced us three years ago.”   

“Those darling boys,” Medda said, her eyes brightening further with the mention of her favorites. “They are the talk of the town with that gallery - and it’s not as if Lenox hasn’t seen many fine galleries come and go. They’re reaching beyond Lenox; that’s why they’ve made such a buzz. That’s part of why I came here for a partial retirement, you know  - I wanted somewhere more peaceful, away from New York, but somewhere that still had plenty of art and culture, and this seemed perfect. And how I brag about them when I take pieces back to New York with me! You should hear the things people say about Jack’s work, and then I show them pictures of David and Jack, and they just start swooning,” she laughed. “Looks and talent in the both of them; artsy people live for that.”

“I think a lot of that is why Jack and Davey left New York, actually,” Sarah said. “You know how they are; neither of them likes false flattery, and they like shmoozing even less. They can do it, but they hate it. They want to talk to the people who are genuinely interested in what they’re accomplishing. I know the feeling,” she added with a quiet sigh.

Medda regarded her thoughtfully. “You’re more like your brother than you’re willing to admit sometimes, I think,” she said. “You’re quieter than he is - my word, that boy can talk, especially about things that he’s passionate about! - but you both have very deep convictions and tend to avoid insincere people.”

“We _are_ twins, after all,” Sarah said. “It would be amazing if we didn’t share some personality traits. And I’ve never known how to describe Davey except to say that he’s my twin - there’s nothing else that adequately explains it. I think of Jack as my best friend, which sometimes feels unfair to Davey - except that Davey is so much _more_ than a brother or a best friend, in lots of ways. We can read each other on a level that I’ve never experienced with anyone else, including Jack, and that’s saying a lot.”

“I knew a set of twins, when I was just starting out on Broadway, who were exactly like what you’re describing with David,” Medda said. “They didn’t seem terribly alike on the surface - but they could hold whole conversations without saying a word. And they would tease the life out of each other, but woe to anyone else who tried to do the same.”

Sarah nodded vigorously. “Yes, exactly. I’ve also known when David was in trouble or upset sometimes, or he’s known with me, when there’s no logical reason we should have known - when we were in different places or living in different cities, even. It’s hard to explain that kind of connection to someone who hasn’t experienced it.”

“Yes, I would imagine it is, but I have no trouble believing it, having met you both,” Medda said. “I’ve been very grateful to have all three of you in my life,” she added with a smile. “It keeps me young.”

Sarah laughed. “As if _you_ needed help staying young, Medda! You’re still gorgeous, and you still produce _and_ act on a regular basis. If I have half the energy you do by the time I’m your age, I’ll be thankful.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Medda said. “What a lovely thing to say. I’ve been very lucky to have a successful career, and to be at a point where I can pick and choose what I do, and that helps. I’m not scrabbling for a living like I was at the beginning, or even sometimes in the middle. It’s wonderful to have a choice about my projects now. But you are doing so well for yourselves! You’ve all accomplished so much, and you still have so much time.”

“That’s actually very reassuring, coming from you,” Sarah said gratefully.

“I’ll never lead you astray, my dear,” Medda said warmly. “Now, do you need something to eat? I have fresh croissants from Haven in the kitchen.”

“That sounds amazing,” Sarah said. “I haven’t even thought about breakfast yet, honestly.”

Medda smiled. “I’ll bring you one to go with your coffee, and otherwise I won’t bother you,” she promised.

“You won’t mind if I practice out here for a little while?” Sarah asked.

“You know you can always play out here as long as you like,” Medda chided her kindly. “I never mind.”

Sarah nodded, and Medda made her way back toward the house as Sarah began practicing Gershwin’s “Summertime,” one of the songs on their list for Audra McDonald’s concert. From there she moved into pieces from _Ragtime_ and _Carousel_ , pausing in her rehearsing to play passages over and over again until they felt right. She was hardly aware of it when Medda came back out to place a croissant and jam beside her coffee.

Brahms was next, and Sarah didn’t hear anything other than her instrument for a long time. The orchestra was playing Brahms’ Third Symphony, among other pieces, and sections of the cello part had to be done carefully. She played through the difficult passages after looking at her notes from rehearsal, made more notes, paused to sip her coffee or take a bite of croissant, and then began all over again.

By the time she was satisfied enough to stop, the sun was high in the sky and what was left of her coffee had long since gone cold. Sarah checked the time on her phone and gave an exclamation - she was supposed to meet Jack and David for a late lunch in half an hour! She sent a quick text to her brother.

 

Jumping in the shower right now - running late.

Sorry. Practicing.

SURE you were. :D

David Jacobs!

I’m not going to dignify that with a response.

 

LOL.

Don’t worry about being late, Saz.

Jack got caught up in painting this morning, too.

We’ll probably just be ready when you get here.

All right. I’ll be there soon. :)

 

A quick shower, change, and drive later, and Sarah walked into Manhattan to Santa Fe only ten minutes later than she’d intended. David was talking intently on the phone, taking notes, and so Sarah began to peruse the art on display, since she had only glanced at it the day before. The handful of Jack’s new paintings that were up were beautiful - sun-drenched landscapes of the West and Southwest, and more intimate, detailed paintings of places in New York, as well as one or two that were clearly of locations in the Berkshires.

There were other new works, too - photographers and fiber artists, collages and mixed media, jewelry in glass cases that glittered with warmth, glass creations that refracted the sun into sparkling lights on the walls. David and Jack hadn’t wanted to operate a gallery that featured one kind of art; they both loved beauty too much to see it as one thing. Between David’s spatial skill and Jack’s artistic eye, they had created a space that was warm, inviting, and a little magical. There was none of the clinical emptiness of so many fine art galleries; each piece was placed next to other types of pieces that complemented it, and the overall effect created a homey, otherworldly curiosity shop of treasures.

David finally hung up the phone, running his hand through his curls with a sigh. “Sorry, Saz,” he said. “That was one of our regulars from Boston, who is a lovely person and spends a lot of money here, but who can be very - _particular_ , shall we say.”

“No worries,” Sarah said. “I was the one who was late in the first place.”

Jack came barreling in the front door from upstairs just then and looked around, then looked at Davey. “Not here yet?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Sarah said, amused. “Is who not here yet?”

“Hi, Sunshine,” Jack said apologetically, giving her a hug. “Our surprise guest for lunch.”

Sarah gave Davey a narrow look. “Mom and Dad aren’t in town, are they?”

“No,” David said, shuddering. “Come on, Saz. I would never subject you to parental fussing without at least a little warning.”

“Your parents are amazing!” Jack objected, nudging David in the shoulder.

“They’re amazing, but they’re also . . . a lot,” Sarah said, momentarily rubbing the space between her brows. “I was not prepared to deal with a Jewish parental interrogation today.”

“Would you settle for a lapsed Jewish friend interrogation?” a new voice said, and Sarah looked up.

“Charlie!” she exclaimed, a smile breaking over her face. She hurried over to the doorway and threw her arms around her friend. “You’re coming to lunch with us?”

“You bet I am,” Charlie said, returning her hug. “When Jack and Davey told me you were here I couldn’t wait to see you. Davey, I’ve got the sculptures in the Subaru, too,” he added, looking over to David.

“ _Brilliant_ ,” David said fervently. “Oh, that’s amazing. I’ll have Smalls help me put them on display as soon as we’re back. Smalls!” he called, and a female head with a reddish pixie cut popped up from the gallery loft.

“Yeah, boss?” she said cheerfully.

“Can you help Charlie bring the sculptures in from his car, and then we’ll set them up as soon as we all get back from lunch?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Smalls said. She clattered down the stairs and came over to Charlie with a grin, doing a complicated series of fist bumps with him in greeting. “How’s it going, Chaz?”

“Swell, sweetie,” Charlie said. “What about you? Is this control freak treating you okay?” he asked, gesturing to David.

“Hey!” David said indignantly, but Sarah could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he wasn’t offended.

“No complaints so far,” Smalls teased.

“Well, you come straight to me if you ever have any,” Charlie said. “I’m the one he listens to, you know.” He sent a wink at David, who stuck his tongue out in response.

Smalls laughed. “I have no problem believing that.”

“C’mon, let’s go get my masterpieces, and I’ll bring you back some lunch for being such a star and helping me,” Charlie said.

“Deal,” Smalls said with another grin. The two of them went out the door together, talking happily, and Smalls held the door for Charlie to make it easier to maneuver with his cane.

David looked after them fondly. “Smalls has been such an amazing intern so far, and she and Charlie get on like a house afire. I’m already hoping I can persuade her to come back next summer.”

“Is she a college student?” Sarah asked, smiling. It was impossible not to after watching Charlie and Smalls interact; they really did seem to enjoy each other’s company.

“She is,” Jack answered. “Majoring in photography and business, and her photos are amazing. She goes to school in Boston, but her parents are local, so she’s home in the summer and over the holidays. She’s great.”

Charlie and Smalls made several trips back and forth with Charlie’s delicate sculptures and pottery, and then David left Smalls in charge of the gallery while the four of them went to lunch.  

Once everyone was settled with food and drinks, Sarah leaned over to Charlie and threw her arm around his shoulders. “So how have you been, hon?” she asked. “Catch me up! I haven’t seen you in a year!”

Charlie laughed. “Same old, same old, Sarah,” he said. “Making beautiful art, trying to keep the leg in shape and flexible, trying not to be a starving artist, which I’m succeeding at a lot better thanks to these two chuckleheads,” he grinned, gesturing at David and Jack, who smirked. “Making friends with Jack in art school might turn out to be the best decision I ever made.”

“Of _course_ it was the best decision you ever made, Crutchie,” Jack said affectionately. “What would I do without my brother?”

“Get into a lot more trouble, for sure,” Charlie snarked back fondly. “Oh, and I might be  . . . seeing someone?”

“What?!” David exclaimed, sitting up. “You never said a word! Spill!”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Would you relax? We’ve only been seeing each other for a little bit, and I wasn’t going to traumatize him by subjecting him to you all right at the beginning.”

“Well, who is he?” Jack demanded. “Local or not? Artist or not? How did you meet him?”

Charlie lifted his eyebrows. “Nosy much, Cowboy?”

“I have to make sure this guy is good enough for you!” Jack protested.

Charlie gave an exasperated sigh, but his lips twitched. “His name is Matt. He’s a dancer, he works at Table Six on the weekends, and he teaches at the Cantarella School of Dance when he isn’t doing shows in Boston.”

“What does he look like?” Sarah asked, squeezing his shoulder. “What did you notice first?”

Charlie smiled at her. “It’s cliché, but I noticed his eyes first. He has beautiful brown eyes.”

Jack was listening intently. “We go to Table Six on our anniversary,” he said, looking at David. “Brown eyes . . . wait, not that _adorable_ guy who hosts?! Curly hair? Really cute smile?”

“Oooh, and he looks like he has killer abs, under that oxford shirt and dress jacket,” David chimed in eagerly, catching on to who Jack meant.

“That’s the one,” Charlie said smugly.

“Well, it’s about _time_!” Jack cheered. “Good for you! How long have you two been seein’ each other?”

“About six weeks,” Charlie admitted. “We met when I went to that wine tasting at Balderdash Cellars, and we ended up talking for a long time. We swapped numbers when we left, and then Matt asked me out to dinner, and . . . yeah. The rest is history,” he said, his cheeks going pink.

“That’s amazing! Congrats, Charlie,” David said sincerely.

“I’m really happy for you, Charlie,” Sarah smiled. “And you look happy; that’s always a good sign.”

Charlie nodded. “It’s early yet, but I am happy,” he said, his eyes bright. “Matt is . . . special.”

Sarah picked up her soda. “I think that deserves a toast!” she declared. “To Charlie and Matt!”

“To Charlie and Matt!” David and Jack echoed, and the four of them clinked their glasses together, amid much laughter.

 

 

**Notes**

Apparently I need notes even in a modern AU. :) Here is [ “Gabriel’s Oboe”](https://youtu.be/XISBJ-MJ0HI) by Morricone, as well as Audra McDonald performing [ “Summertime,”](https://youtu.be/dNLbRdoB9Z8) which is from _Porgy and Bess_. If you are interested, here is her most famous song from _Ragtime_ , [ “Your Daddy’s Son.” ](https://youtu.be/IHYeTlFYhuk) Finally, here also is Brahms’ [ Third Symphony](https://youtu.be/-PyAkTW5HDU). Incidentally, I had to do some online reading to find out which parts of Brahms’ symphonies are considered the hardest for cellists! Parts of his second and third symphonies seem to be in a fairly even race. [ Haven ](https://havencafebakery.com/) is an actual bakery and coffeeshop in Lenox, MA. I found [ this brilliant post ](https://redwolfpup33.tumblr.com/post/168941364177/smalls-i-can-never-find-anything-about-her-shes) about Smalls, and she looked amazingly like she was in my head already (from reading so many fics with her in them!) I pictured everyone going to lunch at [ Betty’s Pizza Shack](https://www.bettyspizza.com/menu.html). Mush works at [ Table Six ](http://tablesixlenox.com/) , which is part of the Kemble Inn. The [ Cantarella School of Dance ](http://cantarellaschoolofdance.org/) is also a real place, not too far from Lenox, as is [ Balderdash Cellars](https://balderdashcellars.com/). Call me crazy, but I had this sudden image in my head of Andrew Keenan-Bolger’s Crutchie with Aaron Lohr’s Mush from ‘92. Wouldn’t they be the _cutest_?

  



	3. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah finally meets a certain redheaded reporter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I must thank the amazing [WickedforGood13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedForGood13/pseuds/WickedForGood13) for being such an amazing friend and encouraging beta. 
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. :)

**Chapter Three: Someone New**

 

The next two weeks flew past. Sarah was immersed in orchestra rehearsals, as well as practicing on her own time, but she did manage to steal the occasional meal with David, Jack, Charlie, or some combination of the three. She also managed a lunch with Charlie and Matt, who was just as adorable and charming as Charlie had said he was. It made Sarah happy to see Charlie so happy; she wasn’t sure she had ever seen him be so relaxed and open around a significant other, and that in itself spoke volumes about how Matt made him feel.

David and Jack didn’t have tickets to the Roger Daltrey show, and that was fine with Sarah, as they were coming for Audra McDonald and for the opening night with Lang Lang. They expected the gallery to be busy; Tanglewood shows usually brought shoppers in both before and during the dinner hours, until the concert began at eight. The three of them had a tradition of sharing a bottle of wine after Sarah’s opening night, so she would see them much later in the evening. Medda was coming to the show, which would be delightful, and it gave Sarah something to look forward to after a long evening of playing.

When Sarah arrived at the Shed, she took a moment to breathe and look around. Tanglewood was beautiful, and there was something about the first concert of the season that was always special. The food vendors and catering staff were already milling around, stocking coolers and filling warming pans. The view of the Berkshires, covered in an endless canopy of green, was breathtaking. Lights glowed softly from the Shed and the Glass House gift shops. Sarah felt the same thrill of awe she had three years ago, when she had played here with the symphony for the first time. There really was no other place quite like it.

“Knock ‘em  dead, Jacobs,” she said to herself with a little smile.

Playing _Tommy_ was, as Sarah had expected, a tremendous amount of fun and not a little thrilling. The crowd was a different mix of people than they would normally get at an orchestra concert, and it warmed Sarah’s heart and made her laugh to see parents and grandparents with their children and grandchildren, dressed up in tie-dye and flowing headscarves, long strings of beads and loose sandals. Though her focus was almost entirely on the music while the orchestra was actually performing, the excitement and exuberance of the audience still made its way to her and the rest of the players. Daltrey was a tremendous performer, as well, and he had a give-and-take with the orchestra that showcased the music in all the best ways.

They were given a standing ovation at the end of the show, which always left Sarah a little giddy, and she was already floating from the intense focus on and the joy of the music. She put her instrument away dreamily, then went to mingle with the audience. Medda would find her, and there were always audience members who liked to talk to the orchestra.

Medda called to her almost as soon as she emerged on the floor. “Sarah!” She raised a hand and beckoned, and Sarah began to make her way up the crowded aisle.

Medda was gowned in a flowing dress of royal blue paisley, and while it might have looked atrocious on almost anyone else, on Medda it looked stunning. Her hair was loose except for one jeweled comb on the right side of her head, allowing her curls to flow down over her shoulders, and she was attracting more than a few appreciative glances.

“Medda, you look amazing!” Sarah exclaimed, as soon as she was close enough to be heard. She held out her arms, and the older woman cheerfully stepped into them, pressing a warm kiss to Sarah’s cheek.

“Thank you, my dear,” she answered. “I’m never one to miss a reason for dressing up, you know. Why bother wearing clothes at all if you aren’t going to enjoy them?” she said, and Sarah laughed.

“Fair point. I must admit I feel very bland in my orchestra black.” The orchestra members had been allowed to be a little less formal for this concert, and Sarah had chosen black pants, paired with a black silk camisole and a carefully tailored gauze beaded top.

“Nonsense! You look lovely, very beautiful and distinguished,” Medda refuted.

“I’d have to say I agree with Ms. Larkin,” said a warm new voice, and Sarah turned her head.

Standing next to them was one of the most beautiful women Sarah had ever seen.  

She had fair skin and red curls that fell past her shoulders, and she was dressed in a wonderful summer dress of dark green that made both her skin and eyes absolutely luminous.

“I’m sorry; it was terribly rude of me to interrupt, but I couldn’t resist,” the woman said, extending her hand with a smile. “Katherine Pulitzer.”

“Sarah Jacobs,” Sarah said, hesitantly shaking her - _Katherine’s_ \- hand.

“Clearly you already know who I am,” Medda said, her brow knitting in thought. “Have we met?”

“It would be hard to grow up in New York and _not_ know who you are, Ms. Larkin, unless one didn’t pay attention to theater at all,” Katherine said in amusement. “But we have met, years ago at one of my father’s parties.”

Medda’s face cleared. “Oh, you’re Joe’s daughter!” she exclaimed. “What a pleasure to see you again! You were just a gangly teenage thing when I saw you last.”

Katherine laughed, and Sarah found that she couldn’t stop staring. Katherine had a beautiful smile, and her eyes lit up when she laughed - large, dark brown eyes that were incredibly inviting.

“A gangly teenage thing is exactly what I was,” Katherine agreed, and Sarah mentally shook herself. “I remember, though, that you told me never to let anyone keep me from going after what I wanted, and I never forgot that. It got me through more than a few moments when I wanted to give up.”

“Well, it means the world to me that you would remember it,” Medda said. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m an arts and culture reporter for the _Times_ , actually,” Katherine said with a touch of pride.

“How wonderful,” Medda beamed. “That does take some ambition and some climbing! Are you here professionally, then?”

“I am, actually,” Katherine confessed. “I’m working on a series of articles about the New England summer arts scene, and it seemed impossible to do that without being present for the opening of the Tanglewood season.” Katherine smiled again, including Sarah in her warmth, and Sarah found herself smiling back, just a little.

“Well, Sarah could tell you all about it,” Medda said. “Why don’t you use her as a source?”

Sarah felt her cheeks heat; Medda wasn’t being the _least_ bit subtle. Katherine, however, didn’t seem to mind.

“I just might,” she said. “I was watching you up there. You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” Sarah murmured. “Most people don’t notice the cello players.”

“I would think anyone with eyes would notice you,” Katherine said softly, and while ordinarily Sarah would have scoffed to herself and dismissed it as a pick-up line, something in Katherine’s face told Sarah that she meant it. Still, it was hard for her to accept such an openly sincere compliment.

“Now you’re just flattering me,” she tried to deflect, attempting a breezy tone.

“I’m really not,” Katherine replied earnestly, “but I’m making you uncomfortable, so I’ll stop. If you would talk to me about the symphony, though, I would appreciate it.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “I’d be glad to, if there’s anything I can help you with.”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Medda said, giving Sarah’s arm a squeeze. “Sarah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. _I_ have a date to get to.”

Sarah chuckled. “Of course you do,” she said, kissing Medda on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Larkin,” Katherine said.

“And you as well, Katherine,” Medda said, shaking her hand again. “Please give my regards to your father, and tell him I’ll try to see him the next time I’m in the city. It’s been too long.”

“I certainly will,” Katherine promised.

Medda made her way up the aisle, and Katherine turned to Sarah with starry eyes. “Did that really just happen? I just held an actual adult conversation with Medda Larkin?”

“You really did,” Sarah affirmed, unable to help smiling. Katherine’s excitement was endearing.

“When I met her at my father’s party,” Katherine said, “it was amazing to me, at the time, that she talked to me as if I were a grown-up and could have my own ambitions. She was so encouraging, and that meant so much to me. It’s wonderful to get to talk to her again as an adult myself. She’s as lovely and warm as I remember.”

“She really is an incredible person,” Sarah agreed. “She’s my landlady as well as my friend, and she treats me almost like a daughter, or maybe a favorite niece.”

“How did you meet her?” Katherine asked.

“My brother introduced us,” Sarah explained. “He lives here, and he and his husband run a gallery. Actually, I am due to meet them - we always have drinks on my opening night. Could you and I pick up this conversation tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Katherine agreed. She rummaged in the small black purse she carried until she came up with a business card and a small notebook. “My number is on here. Can I just jot yours down?”

Sarah recited her cell phone number while Katherine scribbled it into her book. When she was done and had tucked the notebook and pen back into her bag, Sarah extended her hand again. “It was very nice to meet you,” she said sincerely.

“It was very nice to meet you, too, Sarah,” Kath said, taking her hand in return. She smiled, and it once again left Sarah breathless. “I look forward to talking to you tomorrow.”

Sarah managed a little nod and a smile before she let go, her hand feeling oddly cold and empty without Katherine’s clasped around it.

* * *

When Sarah arrived at David and Jack’s apartment, she entered to the welcome sight of both of them in the kitchen, already working on a bottle of red wine. David was stirring something in front of the stove, and Sarah realized suddenly that she was starving.

“That smells heavenly,” she said, slipping off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

“All hail our famous musician!” Jack said exuberantly, brandishing his wine glass. “Another successful opening night, Sunshine?”

“It was,” Sarah said, smiling at him. “It was a fun audience, and that always helps.”

“We’ll have some food in a minute, Saz; I’m just whipping up some pasta and vegetables and Mornay sauce,” David said. “We were starving, and I hoped you would be, too. Here, have some wine in the meantime.”

Sarah accepted the glass he handed her gratefully. “Cheers to another Tanglewood opening,” she said, and David and Jack raised their glasses in salute before they all took sips.

“How did things go at the gallery?” Sarah asked. “Was it as busy as you thought it would be?”

“And then some,” David said. “Thank goodness we’d asked Smalls to work tonight; I don’t know what we would have done without her. We usually get a lot of foot traffic, but we had buyers tonight, and people coming in even after your concert had started.”

“We sold a couple of Charlie’s new sculptures, which he’ll be happy about, and a painting by yours truly,” Jack said modestly.

“That’s wonderful,” Sarah said warmly. “You know I’m always proud of you when something sells, and of Charlie, too. His sculptures are so beautiful, and I was stunned by your new paintings, Jack. They’re exquisite.”

Jack looked touched. “Thank you, Sunshine. Happiness can do wonders,” he added, beaming at David, who leaned down and brushed a kiss over his lips before starting to plate the pasta.

“We sold several photographs, too, and a collage,” David added as he set the plates down. “It was a good night. Hopefully it’s a good omen for how the rest of the summer will go!”

“I hope so, too, for both of you,” Sarah said. “Tell me about your new artists for this year.”

The three of them had a pleasant conversation about the new talents Jack and David had found over the course of the year, some from Boston and New York and some who were more local. They had made their way through most of David’s delicious dinner before Sarah found the nerve to bring up Katherine.

“So I had kind of an . . . odd encounter, after the show tonight,” she said, focusing on the stem of her wine glass. “I might have . . . met someone?”

“Oh, reeeally?” David teased. “Do tell.”  

“I was talking to Medda, and there was this _Times_ reporter . . .” Sarah trailed off. “I don’t know. She wanted to talk to me about the season and the orchestra, but she was flirting with me, too, in a way that was . . . sincere? I was so startled - and Medda was only encouraging her,” she said in exasperation, which made Jack laugh.

“You look like a million bucks tonight, Sarah,” he said. “This woman would have to be blind or completely straight not to flirt with you, and you know how Medda is. She just wants all of her children to be happy.”

“I know,” Sarah nodded.

“Well, do you _want_ to see her again?” Jack pressed gently. He and David were both being careful, Sarah knew; they weren’t giving her nearly the razzing they had given Charlie. She was glad for the opportunity to sort through her feelings; David and Jack would never judge her for having mixed emotions.

“I do, I think,” she said, surprising even herself. “I mean, I’m seeing her tomorrow to tell her about the orchestra, but I might . . . it might be nice, to get to know her?”

“Then you should,” said David, smiling fondly at her. “Is she pretty?”

“She’s _gorgeous_ ,” Sarah said fervently, and David chuckled.

“Does this beautiful mystery woman have a name?” he asked.

“Katherine,” Sarah replied. “Katherine Pulitzer.”

Jack abruptly choked on his wine, and after a brief shocked stare at Sarah, David began to laugh, apparently having no sympathy for his husband’s predicament. Sarah looked back and forth between them, bewildered.

“What is going on with you two?” she demanded.

David managed to stop laughing, but he couldn’t contain his grin. “I’m going to let Jack answer that, but that seems . . . appropriate.”

“ _What_ does?” Sarah said. “Do you two already know Katherine, somehow?”

Jack took another sip of his wine and swallowed it, watching Sarah apprehensively. “She, um . . . she might . . . be my ex?”

Sarah stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“He’s really not,” David interjected, dissolving into laughter again.

“I’ll get to _you_ in a minute,” Sarah said threateningly, pointing a finger at him, which made David at least attempt to straighten his features. She turned back to Jack. “You. Explain.”

“Kath and I dated for about a year, when I was still at the Pratt Institute,” Jack said. “From . . . halfway through our sophomore year to halfway through junior year.” His expression sobered a little, and Sarah knew why.

She and Jack hadn’t been speaking, at that particular point in their lives.

She let out a breath. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“It was mutual, when we broke up,” Jack said. “We were both a little too . . . headstrong for each other, maybe. But we stayed friends, and we kept up with each other for a while after college. I haven’t actually talked to Kath in probably . . . almost a decade?” he said, looking over at David.

“Probably about that,” David agreed. “I don’t think I’ve heard you mention her at all since we left New York, anyway. It’s been a bit.”

“But if the Kath you met is anything like the one that I knew, she’s fabulous, Sunshine,” Jack said encouragingly. “I always thought you two would like each other.”

Sarah took a moment to bury her face in her hands and process. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, her voice muffled.

David chuckled again. “That’s kind of what I meant by ‘appropriate,’” he commented. Sarah lifted her head to glare at him, and he raised his hands defensively. “I’m just saying! You and Jack were together before he and I were, and now if you and Kath get together after Jack dated her, there’s a nice sort of . . . parallel, there?”

Sarah glared at him a moment longer, but the funny side of the situation began to strike her, and she looked over at Jack, her lips twitching. “He’s not wrong, I suppose.”

“I suppose he isn’t,” Jack agreed, starting to grin. “Although really, Davey, sometimes your mouth runs ahead of your brain. You know Sarah could beat either of us in a fight, right? Spot didn’t teach her all those moves for nothin’.”

“Oh, I know she could - I just trust that she won’t,” David said, smiling at his sister, and Sarah raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t be too sure about that, brother dear,” she said. “So I take it you met Katherine as well, if this was while Jack was at Pratt?”

“I did,” David nodded. “She’s great, Saz - and smokin’ hot,” he added, winking at her, which made Sarah blush. “Kath and I were actually pretty good friends, for a little while there, and I was sad when we all lost touch. She’s incredibly smart, and has a great sense of humor.”

Sarah gave Jack a serious look. “Is this going to make things weird?”

“Not for a minute, Sarah,” he replied, just as seriously, reaching over the table to squeeze her hand. “You’re my family and my Sunshine, and nothin’ changes that. Besides, Kath and I _were_ friends, and it would be nice to see her again.  David’s right. If you want to see her, you should.”

“All right,” Sarah said, smiling back at him and squeezing his hand in return. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  
  


**Notes**

The Shed is Tanglewood’s open-air performance space. There are 5,100 seats under a long roof, and then wide lawns extend beyond the seats, allowing patrons to bring their own folding chairs and picnics and sit on the lawn in the open air. Tanglewood also has an indoor concert space, Ozawa Hall. The Glass Houses are the two gift shops on the Tanglewood property, and as the name implies, their outer walls are mostly glass.    

  
  



	4. Wading In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah and Katherine do their interview, and kind of, sort of, maybe have a first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I have to thank WickedforGood13 for being an amazing friend and beta, and for catching all of my editing mistakes that happened as a result of Writing While Exhausted. :) I hope you all enjoy this - the positive response to this story has meant the world to me. <3

**Chapter Four: Wading In**

 

The next day, after orchestra rehearsal, Sarah walked into Haven rather nervously. She and Katherine had texted for a little bit that morning, arranging where and when to meet. While her conversation with David and Jack the night before had, in one sense, made her feel better, it had also added to her own awareness of just how much she  _ wanted _ to see Katherine again. 

Sarah honestly wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Sarah!” a voice called, and she saw Katherine waving at her from a back table. A little of her nervousness melted away; it was impossible for her not to be drawn to Katherine’s warmth.

“Hello,” she greeted Katherine as she got closer, smiling.

“Hi there,” Katherine said brightly. “Can I get you some coffee, or a scone, or both? It’s the least I can do, since you’re taking the time to talk with me.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that,” Sarah said, flustered. “I’m happy to talk. You don’t have to. Let me just grab something, and I’ll be right back.”

Sarah went and got into line, mentally kicking herself as she did so.  _ Why _ was she so nervous? And would Kath be offended because she paid for herself? Or would she take it as Sarah meant it, that it wasn’t necessary to buy her coffee just to talk to her for a story?

_ Stop overthinking, Sarah _ , she reprimanded herself.  _ It’s just an interview, at least right now _ .

She carried her coffee and raspberry scone back to the table and sat. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, offering Kath a tentative smile. “I’m nervous, and that makes me feel strange. I’m not usually the person people want to talk to about the orchestra.”

“Hey, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be nervous. But you shouldn’t be, really,” Katherine said gently. “I’m not scary, and I wanted to talk to you because I thought it would be interesting to get an insider perspective on how the orchestra prepares. And also because I really couldn’t take my eyes off you last night,” she added softly.  

Sarah bit her lip. “You keep saying things like that, and I’m - goodness, Katherine, you’re  _ beautiful _ , and you seem so very kind, and I’m so flattered, but - are you doing this because you want to get to know me, or because you want a story?”

Katherine’s eyes widened. “Sarah. I am absolutely  _ not _ doing this to get a story out of you. If anything, it’s the other way around - the story gave me a reason to see you again. There are other people I could interview, but I wanted to interview you. And if you want, I’ll put away my notebook right now, and we can just sit here and talk. You are under no obligation to be my source about anything.” Katherine moved to close her notebook and cap her pen, but Sarah reached out a hand to stop her.

“No, it’s fine,” she said swiftly. “I’m glad to talk to you; I just - I just wanted to know what I was getting into. Because I wanted to see you again, too,” she admitted shyly. “But I’m - this is a little hard for me, and I didn’t want to read too much into it. I’m sorry if that made it seem like I don’t trust you.”

“I understand, Sarah. You don’t know me well enough to really trust me, yet, and I get that,” Kath said. “But at least now I know that you think I’m beautiful,” she winked, and Sarah blushed.

“I do actually have reasons to trust you, believe it or not,” Sarah said. “But, please, if you want to talk about work, can we do that first? If this is going to become disastrously embarrassing, at least you’ll still have the information you need,” she smiled.

Katherine raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Um, sure? Although now I’m going to be dying to know what you mean by that,” she answered with a grin.

“A little suspense never hurt anyone,” Sarah teased. “Okay, shoot.”

“All right, well, first, tell me what this is like for you, as an orchestra member,” Katherine said. “When do you leave Boston to come out here, how long ahead of time do you know the program, how much of it do you have to rehearse on your own, things like that.”

“Oh, those things are easy to answer,” Sarah said in relief, her shoulders relaxing, and she began to talk while Katherine took notes. Katherine kept adding questions as she talked, asking about when Sarah had joined the orchestra, what she had done before that, how long she had been playing, her personal practice routine, and what her favorite concerts with the orchestra had been. She was a good interviewer, and made Sarah laugh several times with her comments and interjections. Before Sarah knew it, they had been talking for over an hour, and Katherine had filled up several pages with notes.

“I have more than enough, Sarah,” Katherine said finally, flipping back through her notebook. “This is great. I’ll be able to put together a really good piece with all of this - as long as you don’t mind me profiling you a little bit?”

Sarah shook her head. “No, I don’t mind, although I can’t imagine your readers being terribly interested in a cellist. But profile away, if it helps you write the story you want to write.”

Katherine gave her an amused smile. “Yo-Yo Ma is a cellist.”

Sarah burst out laughing. “I am a  _ very _ good musician, but Yo-Yo Ma I am not,” she denied, shaking her head. “He is a once-in-a-century talent.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” Katherine said with a little frown. “I’m not saying everyone can be Yo-Yo Ma, but Sarah, clearly you  _ are _ very good, and you know it, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get to where you are. Why do you downplay it?”

Sarah hunched her shoulders a little, feeling inexplicably defensive. “I don’t think I do. What I told you before is true; most people don’t notice the cellists. It’s a lovely instrument, and it’s appreciated, but most cellists don’t become stars like Yo-Yo Ma, or like so many violinists and pianists do. I’m not even sure I’d  _ want _ that. I love my music, but I’m a pretty quiet person, Katherine. Success was always on my agenda, but not fame. I wanted to be good enough to do this - play with a world-renowned orchestra - and I am, and I live a pretty amazing life because of it. I don’t feel the need to brag about it.”

Katherine was studying her. “Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “I just don’t think you realize what an incredible person you are, Sarah. If you put yourself out there a little bit, you might find that you are just as influential an ambassador for the cello as Mr. Ma.”

Sarah smiled again, shaking her head. “I don’t have that kind of ambition, Kath - may I call you Kath?” she interrupted herself, looking anxiously at Katherine.

“Please do,” Katherine said, her eyes crinkling. “Most of my friends do.”

“Kath it is, then,” Sarah said. She paused for a moment, then went on. “I want to get better for myself. I want to become the best artist I can be. I’d like to be a first chair someday; I’d like to record with some ensembles, maybe. I worked with a few incredible ensembles in Boston before I auditioned for the BSO, and it would be wonderful to get their music out to a wider audience. But I don’t need to be world-famous, Kath. I have a family that I love dearly, and a wonderful life that I enjoy living.”

“That’s fair,” Katherine conceded. “I may be projecting a little bit; I will fully admit that I want to climb all the way to the top. I’ll be editor-in-chief of the  _ Times _ someday, if I can get there.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” Sarah said, chuckling. “That reminds me, I have to ask you - Pulitzer?”

Katherine sighed. “Okay. So we’re moving into the personal talk part of our coffee interview?”

“Only if you want to,” Sarah backpedaled. “If you don’t want to talk about something, you don’t ever have to.”

Katherine shook her head. “I’m mostly over this, now,” she said, her voice wry. “But you can imagine what it’s like, being a journalist and being an  _ actual _ Pulitzer. The jokes are endless, and the assumptions that you’re simply trading on your family name are constant. It used to drive me crazy when I was still in school.”

“I can see why that would be,” Sarah said understandingly.

“So, yes, I am a Pulitzer, and Joseph Pulitzer is something like my three-times great-grandfather. He had a whole bunch of children, and we’re descended from one of them. My father is also Joseph Pulitzer,” Kath said. “He didn’t go into journalism or media, but he’s a very well-known criminal lawyer. And he actually had the gall to be angry when I didn’t become an investigative reporter! He somehow thought that was the only way to be a really successful journalist. I was very good at investigation, and I could have gone that route - but I got so mad at him after one of his lectures that I took a newspaper internship for the Arts & Culture section of the  _ Gay City News _ , just out of spite.”

Sarah laughed again. “He must have hated that.”

“Oh, he did,” Katherine agreed. “But it might be the best thing I ever did, because I found out that I loved arts reporting, and my work at the  _ News _ was what eventually got me into the  _ Times _ . I worked there for a few years after my internship, and when I had built a large enough portfolio, I applied at the  _ Times _ .”

Sarah shook her head. “You’re amazing. You made an entire career for yourself, on your own terms, basically out of spite! That’s incredible.”

Katherine grinned. “I’m a pretty stubborn person, I will freely admit. I didn’t want a career in investigative reporting because it almost felt too easy - or people would assume it had been easy for me, and I didn’t want that, either. I wanted to do something different.” 

“Well, I never had to fight my parents about going into music, thank goodness,” Sarah said. “I loved playing the cello from the moment I took it up in grade school, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It gave my parents more than a few sleepless nights, I think, but they could see how determined I was, and once I got the scholarship to the New England Conservatory, they stopped worrying so much.”

“They sound really accepting,” Katherine said, a little wistfully.

“They are. I’ve been lucky,” Sarah agreed. “They gave me absolutely zero grief when I told them I was bi, too, and that was such a blessing.”

Katherine’s lips tightened. “My parents accept it, but they don’t like it,” she said. “What I mean is, they seem to accept that it’s true, they don’t try to change me, but they wish it wasn’t. They would have liked a heterosexual daughter better.”

Sarah impulsively reached over and put her hand on Kath’s, where it lay on the table. “I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “That’s hard.”

Katherine ran her free hand over her face. “It hasn’t been the easiest, no.” She turned her hand over and gave Sarah’s fingers an appreciative squeeze. “Thank you.” Kath studied their hands for a moment before looking up, and she didn’t let go.

“So . . . you said earlier that you have reasons to trust me. What does that mean?” she asked.

Sarah was tempted to pull her hand away, but Kath must have seen something in her face, because her fingers tightened. Her hand was warm, and Sarah could feel herself flushing.

“I really, really hope this doesn’t make things strange,” she said, looking down at where their hands were joined, instead of directly at Katherine. “I don’t think it will, but  - I’ve really enjoyed this, and I’d like to see you again, Kath,” she said hopefully.

“I would, too,” Katherine said, the warm kindness back in her voice that Sarah didn’t seem able to resist. “Don’t worry, Sarah. Just tell me.”

“Do you remember last night, when I said that my brother and his husband have a gallery here?” Sarah said, and Kath nodded.   


“Well, David Jacobs is my brother. Jack Kelly is my brother-in-law,” Sarah said, and waited.

Katherine was silent for a moment or two. Her eyes had gone wide, and she pressed her free hand to her mouth for a moment in surprise.

“Oh. Oh, my goodness,” she said softly. “You’re Davey’s Sarah. No wonder something about you was so familiar. You’re Jack’s Sunshine.”

Sarah’s heart gave a pang. They hadn’t even been _speaking_ , and Jack had still missed her enough to use her nickname around his then-girlfriend. _Impossible_ _boy_.

“Guilty as charged,” she said to Kath, smiling tremulously. “Is that . . . bad?”

“ _ No _ ,” Katherine said immediately, sitting up and putting her other hand over Sarah’s, so that both of them were surrounding Sarah’s one. A slow smile grew on Kath’s face as she looked at Sarah again, seemingly taking in her features anew. “It’s not bad at all, Sarah. I almost can’t believe it, but at the same time, it makes so much  _ sense _ . I should have seen it right away. You and David share so many features. It just never occurred to me that you could be  _ that _ Sarah Jacobs. What are the odds?”

“Pretty long, I suppose,” Sarah acknowledged with a little smile.

“I was always sorry I didn’t get to meet you when we were all in school,” Kath said, surprising Sarah. “Davey talked about you a lot, and he was worried about you at the beginning of our junior year, I remember. Didn’t he go to Boston to see you, a couple of times?”

“He did,” Sarah nodded, trying to keep her face neutral.

“And Jack didn’t talk about you very often, but he missed you so much,” Katherine went on. She must has seen something on Sarah’s face despite Sarah’s efforts, because her expression was suddenly stricken. “I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, making you uncomfortable. It’s not any of my business, really. It’s reporter’s instinct, I’m afraid, trying to piece together a story.”

“It’s okay,” Sarah reassured her, managing a smile. “It kind of  _ is _ your business, since it turns out that we’re all so connected already. Did Jack or Davey ever tell you the history of our trio?"

“Davey said at some point that you all had been friends since elementary school, I think,” Katherine said, wrinkling her brow in thought.

“We have been,” Sarah affirmed. “Since fifth grade. We were best friends through all the awkwardness of puberty, through middle school and high school. My father got hurt at work at one point, and was fired, and Jack gave  _ us _ some of the money that he made from his job,” she said, her eyes misty. “He and Race and Spot were all living together for the last two years of high school, and between the three of them they barely made enough to cover their rent and utilities, so I have no idea how Jack managed to find money to help us. But he did,” she said, taking a shaky breath. “He would never tell me how. Davey got a part-time job then, too, and between the two of them and my mother we managed to make it through until my father was well again and had found another job. I was in charge of our brother Les, because someone needed to look after him, and I was the only one who could be home when he came home from school.” 

She paused, collecting herself. Katherine was still clasping her hand, her eyes full of sympathy.

“I met Race and Spot a few times, too,” Katherine said. “I knew they were important to Jack, and I loved them to pieces - but I didn’t realize that they’d basically created their own family unit, so young.”

“The three of them . . . got themselves out of some really bad home situations,” Sarah explained. “We all went to the same high school, so Race and Spot were friends with Davey and I, too. And they didn’t . . . let’s just say that Race and Spot’s families weren’t okay with having LGBTQ children,” Sarah said bitterly. “And Jack’s parents were disasters. I don’t know how much he would have told you about that - he hid a lot even from Davey and I.”

“Just tiny pieces,” Kath murmured. “I never pressed him about it. I could tell it had been awful and he didn’t want to relive it.” 

“It was. It was awful,” Sarah acknowledged. “And my parents would have gladly taken in Jack, I think, but they didn’t have the room or the finances for three, and Jack wasn’t about to let Race and Spot try to make ends meet on their own. They all got jobs the minute they were old enough and started saving money for a deposit. Their apartment was a tiny dump, but it was theirs, and it got them away from parents who were toxic,” Sarah finished.

“Wow. I had no idea,” Katherine said pensively. “That explains a lot. It also makes sense that Jack would bond so closely with you and Davey. You all were basically his family.” 

“We were, and the three of us have been pretty much inseparable for the last twenty-some years,” Sarah confirmed. “Barring the two years or so that Jack and I weren’t speaking. He . . . told you that we were together?”

Katherine nodded. “He did. I could never get him to say much, but I could tell how much you meant to him. He did say that you ended badly.”

“That’s true. We were together for about three years, from before our junior year of high school through our freshman year of college. We . . . had a really ugly fight when we broke up,” Sarah said. “I think both of us wanted to reach out and make up long before we did, but neither of us knew how. We did eventually fix things, but it took some time.”

“I remember that. He and I were still texting and e-mailing when he and Davey told you they were together, and he was  _ so _ relieved that things were good between you again,” Katherine smiled.

“I was, too,” Sarah said quietly. “So that’s the short version of my relationship with Jack. We’ve known each other a long time, and had a lot of important firsts together, and we were romantic and then we weren’t, and now we’re best friends. And we’re a little more . . . tender, more gentle, with each other than most people expect, I think, but it’s because we’ve been through a lot together.”

“That’s actually incredibly sweet, and surprises me not at all,” Kath said softly. “That all sounds very much like Jack. And it didn’t upset you, when he and Davey got together?”

“No,” Sarah said, smiling. “That’s another thing that makes absolutely no sense to anyone who doesn’t know our backstory, but it’s the truth. They make each other so happy, and I could see it right from the beginning. I couldn’t imagine being angry about it.”

Katherine laughed. “I kind of felt the same way, when Jack told me,” she said. “I mean, it wasn’t quite the same for me as it would have been for you. Davey was my friend, not my brother, and Jack and I had only dated for about a year. But still, my immediate reaction was, ‘Well, I feel like I should have seen that coming.’ And he was so _ happy _ \- I couldn’t feel anything but glad for him. Impossible boy.”

“He really is,” Sarah agreed, grinning.

Katherine gave her an appalled look, suddenly. “He  _ did  _ tell you that he and I had dated? Please tell me that wasn’t out of the blue for you.”

“He did tell me - you should have seen his face when I said your name,” Sarah said with a little chuckle. “So how did you two meet?”

Katherine gave her an impish look. “I was writing a review of one of the theater productions at Tisch, and Jack had painted the set for them as a way to pick up some extra money. He was backstage opening night, and somehow managed to see me in the audience, so of course he came up to me afterward and started flirting with me.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but she was unable to help her fond smile. “Of course he did.”

“He’s ridiculously charming when he wants to be, but also just - “

“- ridiculous?” Sarah filled in, and suddenly they were both giggling helplessly.

“He’s . . . he tries to be all suave, but you see these glimpses of, I don’t know, an over-eager puppy?” Kath said.

“Yes,” Sarah said between giggles. “That’s a perfect description.”  

They caught each other’s eyes again, and it set them both off on a second round of laughter.

“Oh, my,” Kath said when she finally caught her breath, wiping a tear from one eye. “That boy. I loved him, but he drove me crazy.”

“He still will, you know,” Sarah said, smiling. She tightened her hand around Katherine’s again; they still hadn’t let go of each other. “That is, if you’re willing to see where this goes?”

Katherine’s answering smile made Sarah’s heart skip a beat. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

 

**Notes**

The  [ _ Gay City News _ ](https://www.gaycitynews.nyc/) is a free, weekly NYC newspaper that has a circulation of 47,000; it is the largest LGBTQ+ newspaper in the country. It has been in existence in some form since 1994.

In Chapter Two, I have also gone back and changed Jack’s undergraduate institution to the Pratt Institute. I hadn’t realized in my original round of research that the NYAA only grants graduate degrees, but Pratt does undergraduate degrees in painting, so now my headcanon for this story is that Jack went to Pratt and then to NYAA. :)

 


	5. Floating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I am so glad to be putting this up - it has taken me _forever_. It is fall semester, I am exhausted, I write very little. What can I say? I am working on the next chapter of "Defend" as well! It's happening, but it's a long process.
> 
> I have to, as always, thank WickedforGood13 for being an amazing beta. I really could not do this without her.
> 
> Also, my apologies again for the formatting of the texting. If someone has a trick for that, I would love to know.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know if you do. :)

**Chapter Five: Floating**

 

At the end of that first interview and date, Kath had asked Sarah to go to dinner once she came back to Lenox.

“I have to go over to Vermont for a few days,” she had explained apologetically. “I’m going to write up the Quechee Hot Air Balloon Festival, and then the bluegrass festival in Tunbridge. But I’ll be back for the Audra concert; I’ve already booked the nights at my B & B. Would you . . . come to dinner with me, when I get back?” Kath had asked, almost shyly, and Sarah had found it adorably endearing that this woman who had flirted with her when they first met, who had made no secret of the fact that she was attracted to Sarah, could still be a little shy about asking her on an official date.

“I would love that,” Sarah had answered warmly. “And can I text you, in the meantime?”

“ _Please_ do,” Kath said eagerly, giving her a bright, relieved smile. “Oh! And I’ll send you the story about the symphony, once I get it written up, and you can make sure I didn’t get anything wrong.”

And three days later, she had done just that, which was why Sarah was currently sitting in Haven, staring at a copy of Kath’s article that she had printed from her e-mail.

 

**Tanglewood Season Preparation Demands Initiative, Focus**

_Cellist Sarah Jacobs shares a behind-the-scenes look at the rigor of the BSO._

_By Katherine Pulitzer_

The Boston Symphony Orchestra has returned to Western Mass for their seventy-eighth year at Tanglewood. Because of their unique summer season at the fine arts venue, the BSO prepares what is essentially two concert seasons’ worth of music in a single year. I recently sat down with Sarah Jacobs, the BSO’s second chair cellist, to learn how the orchestra manages what might seem like an impossible task.

I met Jacobs at Haven, a popular coffee shop in Lenox, MA, the tiny New England town where Tanglewood is located and where much of the BSO spends their summer. It is also the location of Edith Wharton’s estate, and retains some of that author’s stately air and New England reserve.

However, Lenox is also bursting with culture, art galleries and jewelry stores tucked next to clothing boutiques and excellent restaurants. There is something for every palette here, and Haven itself is famous for its coffee and pastries. After availing herself of a latte and a raspberry scone, Jacobs proceeded to cheerfully let me in on the BSO’s secret.

“You have to understand that many of the pieces we play are already in the orchestra’s repertoire,” she explained. “That is, the members of the BSO have all been playing a long time, and we’ve learned many pieces over the years, often by necessity. Whether they were assigned by our first teachers, our college professors, our music conservatory masters, whether we had to learn them for an audition or our first professional ensemble, most of us are familiar with and can play a very wide range of classical music. So, we’re not usually learning all of the pieces in a Tanglewood season from scratch. We might have one or two premiere pieces that are brand new.”

Still, she continued, that doesn’t mean that achieving the level of a Tanglewood performance is necessarily easy.

“Even when a piece is familiar, there can be many factors that influence how it’s played,” Jacobs said. “Conductor Nelsons might emphasize different things in a piece than a guest conductor would, for example. If we have a guest artist, and want to feature their sound in a performance, we might play differently as an ensemble in order to let them shine.”

So how, I asked, does she go into a Tanglewood season prepared, when the BSO also plays during the regular concert season?

“Endless practice,” Jacobs said with a laugh. “From the minute we know what concerts we are playing and what pieces are in an upcoming season, I start working those numbers into my practice schedule, and I practice several hours every day. If it’s something I’ve played before, I can re-familiarize myself with it, and if it’s entirely new, I can at least learn my part before we bring the whole orchestra together. By the time we get to Tanglewood, the only things I have to adjust in my playing are the stylistic demands of the conductor or the guest artist.”

Soft-spoken and charming, with a slim figure and long chestnut hair, Jacobs does not project the ego or pretension of many of the musically obsessed, but the quiet passion with which she speaks of her work clearly reveals that for her, the cello was a calling.

“I picked up a cello for the first time in third grade,” Jacobs said. “It was through the music program at my public elementary school in New York City. My family didn’t have a lot of money growing up - we weren’t truly poor, but my mother was always very careful with our budget - and so I might never have seen an instrument, if not for that music education program. I loved the _sound_ of it, the first time I drew a bow across the strings. So rich and full, saying so much with just a few bow movements. After that, all I wanted to do was play. I loved to learn, and so I did well academically, but the cello was what mattered.”

Jacobs’ elementary music teacher agreed to give her extra lessons, and by the time she reached high school she was paying for her own, out of the proceeds of a part-time job. By her own admission, she was driven.

“I had realized, by high school, that I was ‘behind’ most people who became professional cellists,” she said. “I had started playing late, relatively speaking, and so I had a lot of time to make up for. I practiced an extra hour or two every day after school, when I wasn’t looking after my brother, and practiced more on the weekends, when I wasn’t working. I knew by then that I wanted to be a professional, and that I would have to put a lot of time in if I wanted to get there.”

The practicing paid off. Jacobs landed a full scholarship at the New England Conservatory and moved to Boston for college. She formed her own ensemble, known as The Five Boroughs, while still at NEC, and the group achieved considerable local success. After graduating, Jacobs performed with both Emmanuel Music and Winsor Music before auditioning for the BSO.  

“I was completely thrilled when I got the call that let me know I had made it,” Jacobs said with a warm smile. “Every musician hopes to play with one of the best orchestras in the world. It was a dream come true.”

To see Ms. Jacobs and the rest of the BSO during the Tanglewood season, consult their schedule and find ticket prices at www.bso.org.

 

Sarah bit her lip as she finished reading. She felt almost painfully exposed. It wasn’t that Kath had said anything that was strictly untrue, but . . .

She took out her phone, sending a text to Kath before she could second-guess herself.

You’ve made me sound far more talented than I am.

 

Katherine replied almost instantly.

That is absolutely not true.

Just because you don’t like admitting how talented you are,

doesn’t mean your talent doesn’t exist.

Sarah started to respond, but Kath followed up with another text.

Also, I highlighted how hard you work, which is _very_ true.

Yes, you did. That part is true. :)

The rest of it is true, too. :)

Do you have a headshot you can send me?

My editor would like to put one with the article.

Kath . . .

Sarah. I know you have to have a headshot.

Yes, I have one, but does it have to be in the _Times_?!

It does if I want to keep my job, yes. 

Well, I would never want to interfere with the career

of the future editor-in-chief. :)

I don’t have it on my phone, but I can send it to you

from my laptop when I get back to Medda’s.

Thank you. :)

 

Sarah took a slow breath as she set her phone on the table. Her parents and the rest of her family were going to be delighted, but she hated the idea of public scrutiny. Still, it was a beautifully written piece, and it was the kind of thing Kath had built her reputation on - engaging and personal, while still being factual, and focusing on the importance of the arts as well as their beauty. (She may or may not have started reading through all of Katherine’s articles that she could find on the _Times_ website after their interview.)

Sarah’s phone rang, and she jumped - she had been completely lost in thought. She looked at the display, and to her surprise, it wasn’t Kath. Sarah smiled in delight and quickly accepted the call.

“Sarah, my darling!” Race’s cheerful voice hailed her. “When are you going to leave your cello and run away with me?”

Sarah laughed. “That depends. When are you going to leave your handsome and muscular neurosurgeon and run away with me? Or do I have to come back to Boston and elope with both of you?”

“You’re just teasing me, my love. I know you too well. You would never leave the cello. Not even for the two of us,” Race sighed dramatically, and Sarah laughed again.

“Although rumor has it you might be thinkin’ about running off with a certain red-haired reporter?” Race said slyly, and Sarah groaned.

“Don’t tease me, Racetrack,” she begged. “I don’t know what this is yet. Katherine and I have only known each other a few days.”

“What’s there to know, _mio cara_?” Race said gently. “You and Kath are two beautiful, intelligent women who enjoy each other’s company - and who, if I may say, have an awful lot in common in certain respects, both familially and professionally. Why not jump in with both feet?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah sighed. “I like her very much, but - I’m just - I’m trying to enjoy it but not go too fast, okay?”

“Okay. You have to do what’s right for you, _il mio piccola musicista_ ,” Race acquiesced. He wisely changed tack, and his voice turned devilish again. “What’s Jack say about you seein’ Kath?”

Sarah snickered. “He was surprisingly fine with it, after he finished choking on his wine.”

Race let out a whoop of laughter. “I’m sure he was. Rather appropriate, isn’t it?”

“That was the word Davey used, actually,” Sarah said, still giggling.

Race chuckled again. “Trust Mouth to be the most articulate person in the room.”

“When are you and Spot getting here?” Sarah asked eagerly. “I’ve missed you both so much!”

“We’ve missed you too, _dolcezza_ ,” Race said fondly. “We’re getting there the night before the benefit, I hope. Pending any emergency surgeries or traffic jams. We’re hoping to leave in the late afternoon, after we’re both done at work. I think we can stay a day or two on the other end, though, so we might see more of you than you think.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Sarah exclaimed. “You might get to see Kath, too, if she’s not covering another story. I know she wants to see you.”

“It would be nice to catch up with her,” Race said, and Sarah could hear his smile. “It’s been a long time.”

“I’ll see if she’s going to be here and let you know,” Sarah said. “I’m off from the orchestra the night you’re planning to come in, and the night of your benefit, even though we have rehearsal during the day. I’ll probably see you for dinner at Jack and Davey’s when you get here.”

“Sounds good, _stellina_.”

“Oh, and I should tell you, Kath is writing a story that features me,” Sarah said, sighing internally. Might as well get it over with; if she didn’t tell Race and Spot, she would hear about it for _years_ . “It should be in the _Times_ in the next couple of days.”

Race made a noise that was hilariously close to a squeal, and Sarah had to suppress a laugh.

“Sarah, that’s amazing! I’ll have to go to my secret spot to get a _Times_ ; you know the looks you get if people on the T see you reading anything but a _Globe_. I’ll read it in the office.”

Sarah allowed herself to chuckle at that; it was the truth. Bostonians were fiercely territorial.

“If Kath gives me an exact day that it’s going to run, I’ll text you.”

“Perfect,” Race said. “I have to go, darlin’; I have a new little one who’s getting her first consult about a prosthetic.”

“Go take care of that little girl,” Sarah shooed him. “Love you, Race. Give my love to Spot.”

“We love you, too, _dolcezza_. We’ll see you soon,” Race said, and blew her a kiss over the line before he hung up.

Sarah grinned as she tucked Kath’s article back into her bag. Talking to Race had made her feel better; despite her nervousness over the publicity, she knew her family would be excited for her, and a write-up in the _Times_ , even a small one, was nothing to sneeze at. She sent another text to Kath:

Thank you for writing something so complimentary.

It’s kind of you.

I’m looking forward to dinner. :)

It might be kind, but it’s also _still_ true. :)

I’m looking forward to dinner, too.

* * *

Katherine got back into town on June 23rd, and she had insisted to Sarah that she had already made a dinner reservation and wanted to surprise her. It made Sarah nervous, but it was a date, and so all she really wanted to know was how to dress.

Do I need to be formal or informal for this?

...Slightly more on the formal side?

Not helpful.

Not Met Opera formal, just nice.

A nice dress, a pretty outfit like the one you were

wearing during the Tommy concert.

Something nice.

You can’t just tell me where we’re going?

Not in a million years. ;)

Kath. Surprises are hard.

It’s fine, Sarah, I promise. It’s in Lenox; you’ve

already been there. I just want us to feel a little

bit spoiled.

Okay . . .

I’ll see you at seven. :)

 

After going through half her wardrobe in frustration, Sarah settled on a coral maxi dress and sandals and a soft cream cardigan. It was dressy, but not so much so that she would look out of place, and the cardigan would help if the restaurant was air conditioned. She pulled the top part of her hair back into a careful bun, but left the lower part of her hair loose, and finally, clasped her gold chain holding a Star of David around her neck.

Kath, true to her word, knocked on the door precisely at seven. Sarah, thankfully, had been ready for less than five minutes, and so she hadn’t had time to get nervous. She opened the door with a smile, only to be struck speechless by the sight of Katherine in a lacy lavender sundress and matching heels.

“Wow,” she finally managed softly. “You look amazing, Katherine.”

“So do you,” Katherine said appreciatively, smiling. “You are breathtaking, Sarah.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, blushing. “Shall we?”

Katherine nodded, holding out her arm, and Sarah took it, laughing. Kath escorted her to the car, gallantly opening the door for her.

The drive to the restaurant was short, and Sarah recognized where they were going after the first few blocks. She turned an astonished face to Kath.

“You got us a reservation at Table Six?”

“I absolutely did,” Katherine beamed.

“Katherine, Table Six is expensive!” Sarah objected. “You didn’t have to.”

Kath reached over and rested her hand on top of Sarah’s. “I wanted to,” she said earnestly. “It will be a treat for me, too; I’ve never been here, and now I get to eat dinner at a beautiful restaurant with a beautiful woman.”

Much to her chagrin, Sarah felt her face heat up again. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take what should be an utterly over-the-top thing to say and make it sound sincere?”

Katherine’s smile only grew wider. “It _is_ sincere,” she said softly. “That’s how I do it.”

Katherine turned into the Kemble Inn, which housed Table Six, and parked the car, reaching over and squeezing Sarah’s hand again. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go have some amazing food.”

They walked through the front doors and into the restaurant waiting area, only to be greeted by Matt, whose eyes twinkled as he took in Sarah and Kath.

“Well, hel _lo_ gorgeous,” he said to Sarah, grinning at her. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’re here for dinner, as I’m sure you know,” Sarah said primly, arching an eyebrow at Matt that promised painful retribution later if he dared to tease too much. Matt kept the reservation list, and Sarah knew that Charlie (and therefore Jack and David) had probably known about Kath’s dinner plans before she had. She turned to Kath with a smile. “Katherine Pulitzer, Matt Meyers. Matt, Katherine. Matt goes out with my friend Charlie Morris, who does sculptures and pottery for Jack and David’s gallery.”

Matt held out his hand, giving Katherine a roguish grin and an appreciative once over. “Pleasure to meet you, Katherine. I’ve heard all good things, and I’ve gotta say, who wouldn’t say yes to a date with you?”

Katherine laughed. “Pleasure to meet you, too, Matt,” she said. “I appreciate the compliment. I have met Charlie, though it’s been a long time. We should all go for drinks.”

“Consider it done,” Matt said, winking at her. “Sarah knows where to find us. This way, ladies.”

Matt led them to a lovely two-person table that was tucked next to the fireplace, and smiled at them again before he left them with their menus.

“Of course you have met Charlie,” Sarah said in chagrin. “I completely forgot. You two must have crossed paths when you and Jack were dating.”

Katherine nodded. “Only once or twice, though,” she said. “It’s no wonder you didn’t think of it. You know how crazy undergraduate schedules can be - between my being at Columbia and Jack being at Pratt, and Jack’s painting and my work for the paper, some weeks it was all we could do to have a date, much less hang out with anyone else. I only saw so much of Davey because he and Jack were roommates. But I remember Charlie being very sweet. So he and Matt are together? I didn’t even realize Charlie had moved out here.”

“They are,” Sarah confirmed. “It’s new - they’ve only been together about two months, but they seem to really care for each other. It’s adorable. And Charlie came out here - let me see, I think the year after David and Jack? Maybe eighteen months? We’ve managed to start a regular colony of transplanted New Yorkers. But David and Jack gushed about Lenox so much that Charlie decided to give it a try, and honestly, I think he likes it here even more than they do.”

They paused as their waitress came over and they chose drinks and entrees. Once their menus had been whisked away, however, Kath resumed the conversation.

“And you?” she asked. “Do you like it better in Massachusetts than in New York?”

“In some ways,” Sarah said reflectively. “I love the feel of Boston; it has a completely different tempo than New York. I love that I get to come out here every summer and enjoy how beautiful the Berkshires are. I love that somehow, Jack and Davey and Charlie and Race and Spot have all ended up here, through various paths, and so we’re all close enough that it’s still possible to be in each other’s lives. I do miss New York sometimes, though,” she admitted with a smile. “I miss my parents and Les, and I miss the attitude of New York,” she finished with a laugh. “I try to soak it in, when we all go home for the holidays.”

“I’ve traveled, but I’ve never lived anywhere else for an extended period of time,” Kath said. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself.”

Sarah chuckled. “I somehow think you could handle yourself anywhere, Kath.”

As they waited for their meal and then when their plates finally came, the conversation kept flowing, and once again Sarah was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Kath. They talked about Kath’s three brothers, who were all high-powered Manhattanites. They talked about Les, who had surprised the entire family by becoming an aerodynamics engineer. They talked about their favorite books (Sarah loved reading anything by 19th century women, while Kath had a hoard of lesbian detective novels). They discovered they both had a love for opera. The wine and the discussion flowed freely, and by the end of their admittedly excellent meal, Sarah felt the most relaxed and happy she could remember being in years.

As their waitress went to get their check, Sarah reached over and touched the back of Katherine’s hand. “Kath, would you . . . would you come in, when you drop me off? I’d like to play for you,” she said in a rush, not wanting Katherine to think she was pushing for her to stay. “It’s . . . not something I do for many people, but I’d like to play for you.”

“I’d be honored, Sarah,” Katherine answered, and Sarah could see how moved she was by the offer.

The ride back to Medda’s was . . . not tense, exactly, but anticipatory, Sarah decided. She actually felt _nervous_ , and when was the last time that had happened? But, oh, she wanted to play for Kath. She wanted Kath to find her music beautiful. She wanted . . .

Once they got inside her apartment, she settled Kath onto the couch, then pulled a chair over to face her. She carefully removed her cello from its case, rosining the bow before she sat down.

“I’ve had this piece in my head ever since I met  you,” she said softly. “I haven’t actually taken the time to play it again, until now. It’s called ‘First Impressions.’”

Katherine nodded, giving her a gentle smile, and Sarah began.

The moment her bow touched the strings, Sarah’s nervousness fell away. This was _her_ instrument, and music was the best way she knew of connecting with others, and if anything in the world could convey what she was feeling for Kath, it was _this_ , the sweep of her bow over the strings, the rich, vibrating sounds she could draw from the cello almost without thought, the music that embraced her as a lover would.

Without her realizing it, Sarah’s eyes fell closed, and she lost herself in her playing, using every bit of skill she had to try and convey her emotions to the woman across from her. Kath had entered her life in a surprising way, softly, with a warmth and sensitivity Sarah had long ago ceased to expect, and the feeling she created in Sarah was fragile and delicate, but beautiful, and full of possibility.

When the piece ended and Sarah had let the sound drift away, she opened her eyes.

Katherine was staring at her with an expression Sarah could only describe as awe, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.

“Sarah,” she breathed. “Sarah, that was . . . is that really how I make you feel?”  

“Yes,” Sarah admitted shyly.

Katherine swallowed, seeming to brace herself before standing up. “I’d - I’d very much like to kiss you right now. May I?”

Sarah’s heart began to pound, but she couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. “Yes.”

She stood up as well, and carefully balanced her cello against the chair before straightening up and moving toward Katherine.

Katherine reached out a hand and ran it down Sarah’s cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and making Sarah shiver. “Sarah,” she murmured. “You are so beautiful. So amazing.”

Sarah leaned in, pressing her forehead to Kath’s and resting a hand on Katherine’s upper arm. “I think _you_ are beautiful and amazing, Katherine Pulitzer.”

Katherine smiled, and _oh_ , Sarah was going to drown, looking into her eyes this close. “Quite a pair, aren’t we?” she said, brushing her nose against Sarah’s.

“We are,” Sarah whispered back, just before their lips met.

Katherine’s lips were soft, and her kiss was so gentle, so tender, that it almost brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. She raised her free hand to Katherine’s shoulder and pressed closer, and Katherine’s arm stole around her waist. After that, Sarah didn’t know how long they kissed, learning the shape and feel of each other, pressed together from shoulders to knees, tangling their hands in each other’s hair and breathing in each other’s scent. She wasn’t drowning, not with Katherine there supporting her.

They were floating in a world of their own.

 

**Notes**

The [ Quechee Hot Air Balloon Festival ](https://www.quecheeballoonfestival.com/) and the [ Jenny Brook Bluegrass Festival ](https://jennybrookbluegrass.com/) are actual summer events in Vermont. :)

Lenox, MA is in fact where Edith Wharton’s estate is located. Called [ The Mount ](https://www.edithwharton.org/) , Wharton oversaw and designed a great deal of her home, including the interior decoration and the gardens. During her lifetime, she was almost as famous for her ideas about interior design as for her writing. Her book on interior design, [ The Decoration of Houses ](https://www.amazon.com/Decoration-Houses-Edith-Wharton-Codman-dp-1720695296/dp/1720695296/ref=mt_paperback?_encoding=UTF8&me=&qid=1462310639), is still in print.

[ Andris Nelsons ](https://andrisnelsons.com/) is the current conductor of the BSO. [ Emmanuel Music ](http://www.emmanuelmusic.org/who/who_history_mission.htm#pab1_2) and [ Winsor Music ](http://winsormusic.org/) are both famous Boston-based ensembles that have produced very well-known musicians. All of the other things Sarah says about preparation and repertoire are pure speculation on my part. I _could_ research that, y’all, but I just don’t have the energy right now. I’m so tired.

Race’s Italian endearments, with some help from Google translate and looking up masculine and feminine endings: _Mio cara_ \- my dear. _Il mio piccola musicista_ \- my little musician. _Dolcezza_ \- sweetness. _Stellina_ \- star. I freely admit that my Race is entirely based on Max Casella; I have always loved him as Race. :)

“The T” - the mass transit system of trains and trolleys that runs through Boston. Some go above ground, some are below ground, some do both. It can get confusing.

 _The Boston Globe_ is currently owned by Red Sox owner John W. Henry. Ironically, he purchased it back from the _New York Times_ ; the _Times_ owned the _Globe_ from 1993-2013. Before that (and now again), the _Globe_ was an independent entity, and it is the oldest and largest daily newspaper in Boston. (Support your independent newspapers if you have them, all. Lord knows we need an independent media now more than ever. The _Times_ is still independent as well.)

Prosthetist!Race and Neurosurgeon!Spot are originally the creations of the lovely PennySparrow, in her [ Flower Shop AU ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/986985). If you aren’t reading it, you should be! I am so grateful to be able to borrow her version of Race and Spot here. :)

Edgar Meyer’s “First Impressions” is another beautiful cello and piano piece. I think it captures wonderfully the delicacy and warmth of what Sarah is feeling for Kath. You can listen to Yo-Yo Ma play it [ here, on YouTube ](https://youtu.be/xDSivdK58Dw). (If you have Spotify, go to Yo-Yo Ma’s page and find his “Impressions” album. The audio quality on that is actually better than the YouTube version.)

 


End file.
